A Letter of Immense Interest
by Queen Shnoogleberry
Summary: Sherlock receives a letter and two opera tickets from a client who will meet him there. Who he meets in the one woman who may be able to ignite passion in him. Pairings: HolmesXOriginalCharacter Rated M because of ch.22 and on.
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

Watson's P.O.V.

"My dear Watson," My companion remarked one afternoon as I sat with him in front of the breakfast table one morning, "Are you in any mood to see an opera tonight?"

"Certainly." I replied. I was spending the week back on Baker Street, while my Mary was in France, visiting an old school fellow. It was the start of summer and the weather was warm, but not too hot. We had been without cases all week and Holmes was starting to glance at the cocaine bottle.

"I have here, two tickets, sent from a perspective client. Listen to the note, one of the strangest I've ever received. "Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I can not include my name or any information about myself, as there is a chance this letter will go astray. I can, however, send you these tickets. At 11:00, after the final bows, an agent and trusted friend of mine will decide whether or not it is safe to take you see myself. I pray you accept, despite my secrecy, the only thing I can tell you is this: Someone's trying to kill me."

"Well?"

"Hmmmm?" His eyebrow rose.

"What have you deduced from this letter?"

"In a moment." He sat at the table for fewer than five minutes. "It was obviously written by a man, the writing will testify to that. No woman capable of such language would have so messy writing."

"It could have been dictated and written by the associate." I responded.

"Not likely, as there is no darker spots indicating hesitation or hurried bits, which often appear in dictated letters."

"What else?"

"The paper is of the highest quality, and the pen is an expensive one, seeing as it has not splattered." He was right, the writing, though messy was not tainted by splatters. It was unique writing, strong and deliberate also easy to read, despite being so untidy. "Furthermore, tickets for this particular opera have been sold out for months, obviously whoever sent this must have recently come into danger, or he would have contacted me sooner, so the tickets would have to be bought, for quite a price off some other person."

"I'd also guess that our gentleman friend is a doctor or lawyer of some sort."

"And why would you say that?"

He slimed at me. "Doctors and lawyers are notorious for having illegible writing." I snorted. "Also there is an almost arrogant tone to the letter."

"So we're going to help a doctor or lawyer?"

"Well there is an alternative, however unlikely."

"Which is?"

"We're walking into a trap set by one of my many enemies."

"Do you-"

"It's not likely, at all. You see, if I was to be assassinated, it's a lot more likely that they'd only send one ticket, as the less bodies, the less inquiry." With that, I was reassured and eagerly awaiting our night out.

The opera was splendid; the female lead was particularly spectacular. We had a private theater box. Holmes nearly lost track of time, and I did so completely. He shook me when the curtain fell on the last act, awaking me to the real purpose of our night out. The time was 10:45 and the curtain was coming up for the bows. Roses were thrown at the all the actors, but the lead, an attractive blonde woman in a dazzling sky blue gown received, by far, the most. Despite having put so much energy into her performance, she still radiated energy, which only further endeared her to the crowd.

Holmes took out his watch I looked over his shoulder to read it. We still had five minutes to wait. The rest of the audience was filing out into the street to await their carriages and cabs. My friend fidgeted in what seemed like a bored manner, but I, who has known him for years, knew he was highly agitated and impatient. He closed his eyed and tipped his head back. At precisely 11:00 there was a knock on the door.

"Do come in." He responded in his genial way.

A middle aged woman entered. She was smartly dressed in a gray cotton dress. It was fringed in modest lace. Her brown hair was pulled back into a neat knot at the top of her head a few fringes of it covered her ears. She also wore thick spectacles, distorting her eyes. "Follow me." Were her only words to us, they were in a brisk tone implying some authority. Holmes rose and I followed. She escorted us to a nearly invisible door that lead to the back stage area. As we approached one of the dressing rooms, she held up her hand to instruct us to be still. She stuck her head in the door and after a few whispered words, she closed it and looked back at us. She then took us to a spot where there were a few chairs for actors waiting to go onstage. "Wait here. Enter the room in exactly ten minutes. Your client will be waiting." With that she disappeared.

The minutes were tense and Holmes repeatedly checked his watch. When, at long last, the allotted time was up, we rose together and headed towards the door. My companion knocked. "Come in Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson." A rich feminine voice commanded, for that's the only word to describe the tone, from within.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright… I realize and apologies, but I forgot a disclaimer on my last chapter, so here it is… I don't own these characters!!! (I mean, that's obvious, really, isn't it? … whatever…)

Ch. 2

3rd person P.O.V.

Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes entered the room. It was the dressing room of that night's star. She sat, poised, on a red velvet-draped chair. With a wave of her hand she directed them into chairs. Still, despite the identity of the client, it was her costume that shocked them. She was wearing a red velvet jacket that came half way to her chin where it was fringed with lace. There was a seam traveling down the center that intersected the seams that circled her neck, producing a bisected "V". The jacket was not buttoned, but held in place with gold cord that formed a knot sewn into one side and another knot that fit through a loop on the other. Decorating her shoulders were tassels like one would see on the dress uniform of a high ranking officer. The jacket spread out after her waist and came a little past her hips in the back. Underneath it, a stark black, silk, cone shaped skirt was revealed. From underneath this skirt, two leather boots could be observed. Her waist length blond hair was hanging freely about her. Despite the richness of her costume, she wore no jewelry.

"You don't mind joining me for a late supper before we discuss the reason for your visit, I hope? No? Well then, that's good." She uncovered some blue china plates covered by silver domes and revealed several foreign delicacies. "Dr. Watson, would you be so kind as to uncork the bottle of wine to your left? Thank you." She was faded looking, as if she were under a great deal of anxiety. As she poured the wine, though her hand was steady, the bottle seemed quite heavy for her. She was thin, in an appealing way, so whatever stress it was, it had yet to affect her body. When the meal was finished, she moved the plates to a side table and refilled all the glasses.

"Now Mrs. …"

"Ms. Morganna."

"Right, Ms. Morganna, I understand that someone is trying to kill you."

"Indeed. He is a distant cousin of mine, a very distant cousin. He is, however, the closest thing to blood family I have. You see, my parent's are dead-"

"I am very sorry." Holmes interrupted.

"I hardly knew them, don't concern yourself there. He is, legally my heir, should I die unmarried, or so he thinks. I have written my will with precision. Should I die unmarried, my entire estate will go to charity."

"My I ask why you have said nothing? Surely knowing this would keep him away?"

"On the contrary. He has already tried to force me into marriage once, if he knows of my will, he'll spirit me away to a some other country, one with different nuptial laws, force me into marriage and be the lord of my estate."

"Well this is an interesting case…"

"It's not my life that concerns me, but the money, and my family secrets. If he gets his filthy hands on these, he will have unlimited power over me, not to mention other influential people. I will not see him victorious, even if I have to kill myself, though he's more likely to die, at least first."

"Ms. Morganna! I hardly think you could be capable of-"

"I AM capable of it. I already have killed." Holmes gasped. "It was in Asia and a dock worker was trying to rape me. The police took what was left of him away in a box."

"I see…" The detective murmured. Watson was silent. Morganna stood and walked over to a small table. From a bag that was leaning against it, she produced a flat piece of wood that was curved at one end. There was a groove carved down the center and the edges were rounded. It was painted blue with a gold pattern. "What the deuce is that?"

"It's an incense burner." She replied as she fished out a small purple stick. She inserted t into the curved end, lit it, waited a few seconds and blew it out. Smoke wafted up from the stick. It made the pair feel calm and yet alert somehow.

"Should he continue to be unaware of my will, he will most likely try to kill me for it. I am hoping, with your help, we can catch him in the act and have him arrested."

"Well… at least you're specific…" Holmes muttered. "But… what, may I ask you is his name?"

"Baron Joseph Fairwether."

"My, my you do make powerful enemies… and you're full name?"

"Countess Morganna Kristabell Medea Sneris"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. Now, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson, I cannot lay before you any of the secret documentations I have recorded of his activities, as they are back at my estate, however, it is only an hour by train from London, would the two of you honor me with a visit?"

"We'd be delighted." Watson exclaimed.

"Quite…" Holmes murmured.

"Excellent. Meet me at platform three at nine O'clock tomorrow morning. Oh! and pack for a few days! There are a great many documents! Goodnight and fair health to the both of ye!"

"You're Irish?" Watson gasped.

"Not in ze leasht!!!" She giggled in a strong German accent.

"She's an actress, my dear doctor." Holmes chuckled as he led he other man out of her room.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

3rd person P.O.V.

Holmes and Watson were at the appointed place at the appointed time. There was the lovely woman they had made the acquaintance of he night before waiting for them. "Ah, you're here. Come, bring your luggage into the compartment."

The compartment was a comfortable first-class carriage. "I fear, Mr. Holmes, that I have not told you all the details." She said when the train was in motion. "You see, I have reason to believe that he may make a move soon."

"Do tell…"

"You see… I am not the type to be easily contented for long periods of time… so, due partially to an excellent role-model and my own intelligence; I set out to challenge myself. My goal is a Ph. D. in medicine."

Both men choked on their cigars. Holmes still found time to give Watson his 'I told you so' smirk. Morganna sneered. "Now, as you can imagine, the dean of Oxford would rather that I studied something like art. In order to get him to comply with my wishes, I had to make a bet as well as a deal. I would disguise myself as a man while on campus, so as not to attract attention. This was of no difficulty, as last night's performance should testify. The bet was that I would graduate within the top five percent of my class; otherwise, I would forget all my previous degrees and marry him. Should I marry him, I will become a model wife and lady. With this risk at hand it is obvious that Lord Fairwether will try something."

"Good god, you do play with high stake dice, don't you?"

"Gamboling is only fun if you bet your life." She smirked.

"And how are your classes going?"

"The dean, is a gentleman of rare honor, I trust him to be honest, otherwise I never would have bet. He tells me that should I do as well in my final test, which is in June, as I have done in my previous years, I will be succeed."

"Your Ph. D., you say?"

"Yes. I am in my final year."

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty five."

"Good God…"

"Well I started University when I was fifteen."

"Well, my dear Watson, should her story be true, I have little doubt that I have found a mind to rival my own. May I ask why you haven't tackled this problem yourself?"

"I'm busy studying."

Holmes chuckled. "Well then… I accept your case."

"Oh! Look, we're here!" A rather relived Watson cried.

Stepping out of the train, they were welcomed by a tall portly man holding the reigns of four horses. "Sorry, Morrigan, I had trouble with the carriage… in the form of a broken… thingy…"

"Ah… Well gentlemen, allow me to present my incompetent groom, and adopted elder brother, Joshua."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance…" Watson murmured.

"Charmed…" Holmes muttered giving one of the horses a wary look. It was a Frisian mare, large and powerful looking.

"Don't worry; I'm not going to make you ride her… But if you, Doctor Watson would like to try her…"

"Uh… no thank you…"

"Alright then…" She mounted, and then indicated to the remaining two horses. "Take your pick of the other two. Your luggage will be safe at the station with the manager. It will be recovered later"

The group mounted and Morganna led them down a long road out of town and twenty minutes into the country. The area was close to the ocean and there were many hills with deep valleys. Morganna rode them all while sitting backwards on her horse. "All the better for conversation and my precious Isis knows the way" She replied to their questioning.

"What can I say; my countess is weird at best." The groom had laughed. Their friendship was rather clear and both men found the atmosphere pleasant. Morganna's horse was clearly well trained, despite her nervous temperament. She rode with ease and grace.

Their ride came to an end at the gates of a medieval castle, refurbished with every modern luxury, but still maintaining the old sense of raw power. The outer stone was a grayish-brown colour, and at many places covered in ivy, giving the place a rather fairy-tale appearance. She led them inside.

Indoors, the floor was white marble and the walls were of the same stone as the outdoors there were also columns of red granite in larger rooms. She led them past numerous rooms, and straight to a pair of large double doors. "This is the library, my study is just inside." She opened the doors and revealed a scene that made Holmes and Watson gasp. The library was a large room, with a cathedral ceiling. There were bookshelves everywhere and on the walls going as high as possible. In the center were the furniture one would expect to find in a sitting room, several sofas and numerous armchairs. There were an abundance of coffee tables all with lamps. "Please sit down…"

She left them for a few minutes and returned with a stack of documents. "These are just the ones that I can show you and that I could find…"

"They are rather incriminating… and you don't wish him to see these documents above all else?"

"Exactly… my family has long been in a relationship of extreme personal trust with the crown… I even have some documents that could start wars in the building… though even if he gets me, he'll never get them… if he tries to open their vault with anything but the knowledge of how to exactly, the documents will be destroyed."

"This seems a lot of information to tell someone you hardly know…" Holmes smirked.

"Not exactly. You see I am a personal friend of your brother's and he told me I could place as much confidence in you as him."

"…figures…"

"Anyway… as you can see, should he succeed, he will bring the royal family's reputation crashing to the ground, or else blackmail himself into a position of extreme power…"

"And you're willing to kill him before he does so?"

"Many people are…"

"Then I'll happily take this case…"

"Well… that's settled… about your fee… fifteen thousand pounds-"

"FIFTEEN!?! My fees are not nearly that-"

"Each, as from what I understand, the good doctor has a habit of suffering during these investigations. I also understand that you like to work for work's sake? Well so do I… However I don't need the money. Take it and you should be able to live off it for the rest of your life and never degrade yourself by taking on cases for the sake of money. That life is your real payment."

"You are quite the silver tongued devil, aren't you…?"

"Indeed." She smirked at both men. Watson was still speechless.

"Well… we shall have to stay here for a while and go over some things…"

"I'll have a maid show you to your rooms…" She rang a small bell and placed the order. She remained in the same spot as both men were led away.

The door was pushed open and Holmes could hardly hold in a gasp. The window was large and looked out onto a lush garden. The furniture was rich and antique. However standing in the center of the center rug, was the woman he had just bidden goodbye to.

"Should you need to see me," She said when the not-so-surprised maid had left, "at any hour of the day, there is a passage right here that leads right to my room, and this one to Dr. Watson's." She pointed them out.

"Thank you…" Sherlock seemed rather disturbed. It wasn't often that ladies said such things.

"No doubt I've shocked you. Don't worry… I don't expect you to need those passages… and it actually leads to my dressing room, not my bedroom."

"Well… that's a bit of a relief…"

"Lunch should be ready…"

They met Watson in the dining room. Both men were impressed by the food, Sherlock even ate. After they retired to Morganna's study to glance over some more documents, including nuptial laws of many countries and the Baron's personal history. They were just pouring over the part about his alleged offences, when the maid entered with a card.

"Well now, gentlemen," She said as soon as she sent the maid to retrieve the man. "You shall bear witness to an interaction between the two of us… I beg that you use my late father's study to hide in, the door is the one covered by the tapestry. And By God!!! Don't come out!!!"

He entered without knocking. Holmes and Watson were shocked at the man's rudeness. Morganna was unfazed. She waved him into the chair in front of her desk. "Now, dear cousin, now may I be of assistance?"

"You know what I have come here to seek. I can offer you a life of ultimate luxury-"

"With my money? All men can offer that."

"With mine as well. We'll buy a proper modern mansion; you'll have no use of this stuffy old castle any more."

"Thank you, no. I love it here; you have no soul to appreciate the true beauty of the artistic landscape."

"I can offer you a title!!!"

"I already have one, and a more exalted one than yours, I may add." She placed a hand on her breast.

"I am bosom friends with the most fashionable people!!!"

"All of which I find dull."

"You'll be my wife, yet!!! Even if I am forced to release these…" He withdrew a small packet of letters from his jacket.

"Oh?"

"Letters referring to a love affair of yours with… multiple men… and even a woman or two…"

Holmes and Watson tensed their hands around their revolvers.

Morganna laughed. "You do so, and I will sue you for slander, forgery, and blackmail. With those three I shall get a rather large portion of your estate, I imagine…"

"You'll never prove it!!!"

"Oh? I have my ways… you never really know where my agents are… I am, in fact, bosom friends with one of your servants. Also, I have the blueprints of your home and know of secret entrances you could never fathom!!! Hell, I even have enough knowledge about you to tell you've recently switched your cigars for the Cuban variety."

"DAMN WITCH!!! I'll see you hang!!!" He fled and Morganna once again burst out in a laughter that followed him down the hallway.

"Please come out now…" She said as she straightened the toppled chair.

"That was interesting… do you really have all that information?" Holmes asked as he sat.

"Heavens no!!! I work in the theater, I know how to act!!!"

"But the cigar?"

"Ah, yes… Mr. Holmes, I really must thank you for writing that excellent monograph on tobacco ashes…" The three enjoyed a hearty laugh that made the servants pass the room rather quicker than normally.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

3rd person P.O.V.

The pair stayed with Morganna for a few weeks, before a London murder brought them home. Dr. Watson found him talking quite frequently with Mary about the Countess. Mary's guilty pleasure was the public scandal magazines, and apparently the lady's name was frequent in them.

Holmes, on the other hand, said nothing about her, unless Watson brought it up and it was in regards to the case. The doctor noticed that his friend was taking a more cold view on the matter than he normally did. This was exceptionally puzzling, as while staying there, Holmes seemed to have no problem with the lady; in fact, he rather seemed to like her. These days, he was rather attached to his violin, composing his own music that Watson noticed was unlike that which he normally dabbled in. It was more incoherent, and yet, held to it an almost magical quality that made it almost pleasant. Holmes, himself was prone to more random moods. He would alternate between frantic pacing to lethargy and depression, to extremely happy…

It was not until one morning, when Watson, having come to check on a cold of Mrs. Hudson's, was over at Baker Street, that part of the mystery revealed itself to him.

Holmes was eating breakfast with his old friend and reading the post. He paused at the last letter. It was in a very fine envelope and sealed with a crimson wax coat of arms. His face lit up as he tore open the letter with hast unusual of him.

"A relished letter, Holmes? You did not even bother to try and deduce what the writer had eaten for breakfast three weeks before sending it." Watson chuckled.

"Hmmm… Toast with marmalade…"

"HOW THE DEV-"

"It's from Morganna, we shared that breakfast with her, remember."

Watson could not help a chuckle. "You are always forwarding the most unexpected of statements, my dear Holmes…"

"Oh, my… well… this is unexpected… Morganna's requesting my presence as a social function… She says that she'll be coming over to discuss it with me in detail this afternoon, provided she doesn't get run over by a cab first."

"She actually wrote that?"

"Indeed… I suspect she prefers to be as morbid as possible when saying things like 'so long as I am able.' Strange…."

"I'll say…"

"Well, at least she's an interesting client… rather than those school girls…" He almost shuddered.

Morganna walked into the sitting room at 221B Baker Street with an aura of confidence and power. She sat in the chair Holmes indicated. "I apologize for giving you so little notice as to my coming, but I found myself in town rather unexpectedly."

"Not at all. Your letter said you wished for me to accompany you to a formal reception?"

"Yes. A ball at Buckingham Palace…"

Holmes chocked. "That's not my usual circle, wouldn't you rather go with someone whom you can trust to not humiliate you?"

Morganna gave a small laugh. "That's not it. I just felt you should get acquainted with 'his' allias…" She let the last three words hang in the air.

"Alright, so, when is this ball?"

"Two weeks. It starts, Friday at nine PM…"

"Two weeks is not nearly enough time to see a tailor and have a suit made."

Again Morganna smiled. "I already booked you a fitting at three this evening."

"But how the devil-"

"My favorite dressmaker's brother is one of the finest formal wear tailors in all London, I just estimated your basic measurements, and gave him a list of the cloth and colours."

"And how did you know that I would even BE coming?"

"I have a way with people, now, if you don't mind, I have a carriage waiting." She said as she stood.

Sherlock followed her out the door, wondering just what he was in for.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

3rd person P.O.V.

Sherlock descended from the carriage in the finest of silk suits and a blue-grey silk cravat fastened with a silver and diamond tie pin, borrowed from Morganna's late father's things. He reached out his hand to assist the lady from her carriage. He had to admit that she looked almost normal, dressed in a royal blue gown with silver trimming. She even acted normal, but despite her outward appearance, there was something that made her stick out or at least to Sherlock.

Morganna took her first opportunity to lead her escort onto the dance floor. As they waltzed in between couples, she took the opportunity to point out those he should remember and those he may as well forget.

Sherlock couldn't say why, but he found himself actually enjoying himself. He preferred to avoid the upscale parties such as this, as the ladies at these parties avoid seedy sailor frequented pubs. He nearly laughed at that thought. He found his imagination processing a scene of one of these perfectly silk-clad ladies entering a pub and being asked to keep an old sailor company.

"What's so funny?" Morganna asked as he spun her.

"Nothing… well nothing you said…"

"Please share it, this party is horridly dull…"

"I was just imagining one of these ladies in a dock-side pub…" He didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly not Morganna slipping away from him and briskly, yet discreetly away. He eventually caught up with her in a deserted hall, fully expecting, now, to be slapped. Instead, Morganna bent over in a silent fit of laughter. Sherlock joined her happily.

It took several minutes before they were able to right themselves again. Sherlock had to even help Morganna fix her hair. As they re-entered the ballroom, no one outwardly acknowledged they had been gone, but those who did notice fully expected that they had been kissing in a hidden area of the garden. It didn't help that the countess's hair was slightly messy.

The ball winded down and people began to leave. Morganna and Sherlock were among the last to leave, as dancing together was mutually pleasant. They both had excellent senses of rhythm and they co-existed with the perfection only matched by the solar system that all played a part in supporting life on Earth. Still, as the ball inevitably ended, and they descended into their carriage, both Morganna and Sherlock couldn't help but feel satisfied and tired. When they were a few blocks away, Morganna leaned into Sherlock's shoulder and began to giggle.

"What is it? I told you the source of my laughter, now it's our turn."

"Did you see their faces?"

"Hmmm?"

"All the old ladies at the ball, as we re-entered? Just put yourself in their shoes! What would you imagine we were doing?"

"I'd rather not." He said stiffly, but broke down in laughter a few seconds later anyways.

The carriage stopped outside 221 B Baker street all too soon for the pair. Sherlock placed one foot out before he turned around again. "Ms… Morganna…" He waited for any objections at the familiarity, but none came and he dove on. "I hope I am not being haughty or out of line here, but I would like to ask for your permission to keep in contact with you after I am finished no your case."

"I could scarcely imagine a better pleasure than having you as a friend."

"A friend hmm?"

"Yes, and as such, I must ask you to please drop the 'Ms' stuff. You can call me just Morganna."

"It would be my pleasure." He kissed her hand and left with a significantly lighter heart than he could remember having in a long while.

Morganna sat alone in the carriage and smiled to herself in the darkness. She was much more in tune with her emotions than her friend was, and she saw the inevitable already and relished the idea. Sherlock Holmes was a fine man, and a very unusual one. She'd have to work carefully, but she always did love a challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

3rd person P.O.V.

Holmes turned down the lamp and began to pace. He had the proof laid before him of Baron Joseph Fairwether's guilt in several crimes, enough to put him away for a few years and give Morganna time to marry whoever she wanted, as well as the original will left by her mother. Tomorrow he would present the information to Inspector Lestrade and hope for a quiet arrest. If all went well, the case would be out of his mind by dinner the next day.

Morganna however would not leave his mind. He knew what had happened, something he swore to himself never to do. He had fallen in love and with a client too! Even worse was that the client was rich and of noble birth. He sighed as he allowed himself to realize the hopelessness of his situation. He slammed his fist down on his desk and took several deep breaths. After trying, unsuccessfully, to calm his nerves, he reached for his violin.

The sad tones filled the house and Mrs. Hudson, knowing what the tone meant, did not say anything, but tried to sleep through the dirge.

Holmes sighed as dawn rose, pink and bright. At least Morganna had jumped at the chanced to remain in contact. He knew he would always have her as a friend, but that also complicated maters. He had never been in love before and he was completely unsure of how to detect love, other than as a third party. Never had it involved him before. He decided that the only thing to do would be to consult Watson. He checked his watch and saw that he had enough time to get to him before he started his rounds.

He hailed a hansom and was there within twenty minutes. A still sleepy Watson descended the stairs that day. He yawned and asked, "Oh, Holmes, not a case?"

"No… not exactly…" Holmes replied. "Would I be able to ride with you on your rounds and talk to you… it's a personal problem and you're the only one I can turn to…"

His friend warmed instantly, "Why, yes! It would be lovely to have a companion."

So they both took of in the cab Holmes had arrived in. "I'm a fool." Holmes started with. "An absolute fool."

"Oh, my dear Holmes-"

"No, this time I mean it. I've done something so completely stupid that this time you shall have to agree with me."

"Oh?"

"I've fallen in love."

"Why Holmes! That's-"

"With Morganna."

"Ah… well… that may be a little difficult…"

"What I need to know, is should I ask her to marry me, should I be satisfied with remaining friends, or should I try to distance myself as much as I possibly can?"

"Well, what you ask is not a simple question by any means. But you mentioned remaining friends?"

"Yes. I asked her if I could keep in contact with her after the case."

"And she agreed?"

"She seemed rather pleased with the idea." Holmes looked hopeful.

"Well that's very good. It means she defiantly enjoys your presence."

"Yes, but would it wreck our friendship if I asked her to marry me? Especially after so short a time?"

"I'd wait until her exams are done, that is, if you want a doctor for a wife. Personally, when I return home at night, the last thing I want to hear about is medicine."

"I understand, and yes, I do want a doctor for a wife, so long as it's Morganna. She's smart and not afraid to show it. I think it's stupid the way women try to hide intelligence. No, not stupid. We as men are the ones that are stupid to fall for it. You do realize that women use the damsel in distress routine more than any other to manipulate us right? At least I wouldn't have to worry about that with her. It would be a true battle of the wits."

Watson chuckled. "For you, Holmes, any challenge is jumped at, no matter how unusual. Me, I love Mary being sweet and womanly like; sewing and looking after the household. I don't mind giving into the little things on the basis of an ancient stereotype."

"Well, I guess I'm just strange then… or ahead of my time…" The conversation drifted off into other topics as they approached the next patient. When they stopped, Holmes paid the fair for the day and left Watson alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

3rd person P.O.V.

Morganna stood in the Scotland Yard waiting room. She was a few minutes early for her meeting with Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Lestrade. Outwardly she appeared composed, as if she were waiting to go out to coffee, but on the inside she was overflowing with worry. Her exams would start in a week, she would be in serious danger if Lord Fairwether were not arrested, and most of all, she was unsure of how to act around Sherlock Holmes.

She thought he loved her, but she could not be sure. If she were to act cold, she could hurt him unnecessarily, yet, if she was to flirt with him, and encourage affections in any way, and he did not hold her in any high regard… She pressed a hand to her forehead to stop her rambling thoughts. The only way to know anything for sure would be to observe and deduce, as he so frequently did. Until she had further proof, one way or another, she would act no differently than she had been thus far.

Sherlock Holmes entered the room with his arms full of papers. He saw, to his relief, that there was only one person in the waiting room. Morganna. He felt an unfamiliar chill run down his spine and spread to every inch of his body at the sight of her standing with her head against the window, still unaware of his presence. He took a minute to admire her. She was clad in an unremarkable dark blue dress, and a grey coat, still wet from the pouring rain outside. He gave a small cough to announce himself.

Morganna jumped and gazed at him. He was in a somber outfit of grey trousers and a black frock coat. His collar was crisp and white, as always. She found herself smiling at that. One of the many things that was always consistent about him… He smiled at her and Morganna felt all her fears melt. He was capable of handling Lord Fairwether. Any emotions could be settled this summer and as for her tests, she knew more than some of her professors. Her role model was, after all, one of the most esteemed doctors in the world and almost an elder brother to her.

Holmes looked her in the eyes. He could see that she had not slept for several days. Yet she did not look worried, she just looked harried. He smiled and walked up to her.

Feeling particularly daring as well as relying on her gratitude, he kissed her, gently on the cheek. "I have all the files here. It is not enough to hang him, but he shall not bother you for several years. By then, you should have married. Yes?"

"Hmmm…?" She gazed at him with blank eyes.

"You'll be married before the ten years we can send him to prison for will be up?"

"Perhaps… I really don't know…" She struggled to keep her voice calm. It felt like her heart was in her throat and her stomach on the cold stone floor.

"Don't know? Don't you have a Beau? A lovely woman like yourself…"

"Men do find me attractive, but few of them have the brains to carry on a relevant conversation… they all seem to have money and titles… but no brains at all…" She found herself whispering to herself…

Holmes heard it. He turned around, casually, despite his the pounding of his heart. He bit his lip and thought what it was suppose to mean. Did he stand a chance with her, or was she merely suffering from a mild case of brain fever? Taking a deep breath, and wishing he had a hip flask of brandy, he turned around. "Lestrade said to just come in at three… we should probably go…"

Lestrade stood as they entered. He was startled at the sight of the woman. He knew that she was supposed to be a Countess, and yet, she was dressed no better than a governess. Her cloths were neat and in perfect taste, but devoid of lace and braid that made them luxurious. Her hair was in a simple knot on her head, and soaking. Her eyes were as piercing as his friend's and yet, they were red with exhaustion. But when she took the chair he indicated for her to take, she sat with such grace and poise that any doubts were erased.

"Lestrade, I have the files I told you of." Holmes said, placing the bundle on his desk,

"Ah, thank you… but…" He leaned toward his friend. "Does she have to be here? I wouldn't want to upset her."

"I'll be fine. I have just been stressed recently over an unrelated matter." Her voice was smooth as melted chocolate and just as rich.

"Alright…" They spent the next few hours going over every document in the folder. Holmes and Morganna left as Lestrade went to issue an arrest warrant.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, I think the both of us would be better for some supper and then afterwards I have tow tickets to the opera later, if you'll honor me."

"I'd love to." He said as he offered her his arm.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8

3rd person P.O.V.

Holmes lay in his bed that night, unable to sleep from his racing mind. Morganna had been so care free in the past hours. Far more so than he had ever seen her and her glee had been contagious. Holmes had found himself laughing freely with her as they drove to her hotel. Once there, she invited him for a drink in the bar before going to bed.

It was more than one drink and it was four in the morning before Holmes returned to Baker Street. As he lay there, thinking about her laughing with him and Watson's words… "I'd wait until her exams are done, that is, if you want a doctor for a wife."

He did. He wanted here more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. He began to truly understand, for the first time, what had pulled Watson from his exciting life to a domestic one. Yet, Morganna would never be a housewife, content to sew and read romance novels… She wouldn't be content to raise a house full of children while he ran off to solve his cases. But that's not what he wanted. If he wanted someone to mend his shirts and report the neighbor's every movement, he would have married any woman. She was ten years younger than he was. That did pose a slight problem, as there was always the danger that a young thing like her would want a more youthful husband, but, by the standards of the day, it was not too large a gap.

His mind wandered to the conversation they had, while resting on a settee in the hotel lobby earlier that evening. "So you know something about fighting?"

"Yes…"

"Boxing?" He dared to look hopeful?

"…you mean Ballet turned into a blood sport? No… but I've watched some of the fighters… pathetic…"

His face fell…

"No… that's not very accurate… but I must say that a Ballet dancer and a boxer in a fight would be… interesting at the very least…"

"And short."

"No… have you ever seen the ballet? Those poses they have to hold… those kicks… it takes a lot of strength in all parts of the body… so long as the dancer was clever and wanted to win, the boxer would have no chance…"

"Oh, really… and what if it were a female dancer?"

"You can't hit what you can't catch." She didn't even bother to try to hide her smug smirk.

He placed his head in his hands. "You should write your ideas up in a essay and try to publish it alongside Watson's horrid stories…"

"I already tried… For my efforts, I received this charming letter telling me that my work was interesting, but they did not believe my talents suited their magazine and that they did not think they could do my work justice… Translation: 'You're a raving lunatic and should be shackled to the wall, unable to write a word, in the nearest mental hospital… for life'…" She smiled as she said it, as if she were commenting on how lovely the day was, while at the beach.

He laughed… He found that he just couldn't stop laughing. Part of it was her humor matched his perfectly, and part of it was the brandy he had consumed.

"Yah… some people DO try to have me locked up, and a rare few, like you, find it a little too funny… I think I prefer your type…"

He watched as the sun began to light up his room. Just as things were turning from grey to pink, sleep claimed him in its warm embrace.

Morganna lay on her bed that night, restless too. She was on her back, throwing one of her pillows up in the air and catching it. Her thoughts were on the words of her mother, before she passed away… "Darling, money is commonplace and you will have plenty of it. There are men with titles these days, they call themselves noble, yet they did nothing to earn the honor. You too, fall into this category, as I did."

"Did?"

'I have done things for our country that I am not allowed to tell you of."

"Like what?"

"I am not allowed to say… but I did them to prevent a war…"

"oh…"

"You must remember that all things are commonplace, even gold, except a truly great mind. Treasure thoughts like the fools treasure gold."

"Why must I not treasure gold?"

"It is the cause of wars, and for what? A shiny metal that does not make tools or anything useful. HA! It is pretty and alright to like, but do not allow yourself to become ensnared with it. Other than making pretty, but ultimately useless things, it has no purpose."

"Then why is it so valuable?"

"I can't say… really because it always has been… the real reason is too old to be known…"

"I see…"

Morganna sat up in bed, stunned. The pillow fell over the side and she did not even notice. Her mouth hung open.

When she recovered herself, she dressed and ran to get a cab. She took the train to her Chateau and was there before nine that morning.

By a stroke of luck, Joshua had been in town getting a horse re-shooed. He was able to give her a ride, so she was back home before ten. She ran down the stairs, into a basement room. She turned her key in the lock. There were only tow keys to this room. One for the mistress and one for the master, when there was one.

Once inside, her quick eyes scanned the room until she saw what she was looking for. A pedestal with a crown, of sorts, covered by a glass dome. She ran to it and lifted the lid. She held the crown, not a royal one, but remarkable in its craftsmanship. It was in the shape of a gold laurel wreath, similar to the ones that Napoleon was seen to wear. In fact, it was made by the same jeweler as one of the emperor's. Remembering Sherlock Holmes's quote from 'The Valley of Fear', "If the green-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it." And giggling, she clutched the thing to her chest, dropped it into her tote bag and caught he next train back to London.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

3rd person P.O.V.

Holmes sat cross legged on his chair that evening, facing Watson before the fire. "So around that time, I arrived home…" He finished his narration of the previous night and lit his pipe.

Watson thought for a moment. He was ecstatic to see his friend so happy and obviously in love. Still, he was worried that he would be refused. Holmes was a strong man, but he could tell that this woman hade him heart and soul. If he were refused, it would mean a whole lot of cocaine and a whole lot of nursing back to health. His biggest fear was an overdose. He knew he was worrying excessively, but Holmes was a difficult patient at the best of times…

There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Hudson answered it and directed the visitor up the stairs. There was the sound of running footsteps, followed by Mrs. Hudson's hurried, but dignified ones. There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Holmes called, expecting a case.

Morganna burst into the room. She was in a soaked cloak with the hem of a vibrant blue dress underneath. She had a slightly heavy looking bag slung over her shoulder. When she opened the door, she burst into an exultant song and sang it through, finishing on her knee, with her arms in the air, between the two men. Her hair was down and as soaked as her cloths, but her face radiated with such happiness that the beauty of it took the breath both men away.

As she gasped for breath after her song, Holmes rose to take her cloak from her. "You should be more careful… you'll catch a chill."

"Oh, you governess… I never get sick. Hello Dr. Watson!" She smiled at both men. "I brought you something, Mr. Holmes."

"…oh?" He felt awkward at the formality, especially after the display she had just made, but he had not asked her to call him by his first name yet, despite her asking him to address her informally.

"Just something I found while polishing some of my family's old relics… it does not suit my taste, but I thought it would suit you." She withdrew the box containing the head piece from her bag and handed it to him, still on her knee.

"Uh… thank you…" He was on the spot and in a situation where he had no idea of how t act. He opened the box and gasped. There on a pillow of blue silk lay the ornament. It shone with all the light in the room, having been freshly polished. "…Morganna…"

"Well… try it on!"

It fit perfectly. Morganna knew it would. She couldn't say why, but she knew it would fit his noble head.

Watson, completely shocked at the value of the gift, still found the means to chuckle. It did suit Holmes in an unearthly way, as if he was the reincarnation of a Roman emperor. "It suits your vanity." He managed, deciding to take a stab at his friend.

"Thanks, my dear friend… but Morganna, I can't accept this…"

"Oh… why not?" Her face changed completely. She looked like she had been slapped.

"Well… it's far too valuable… I just wouldn't feel right accepting something as a mere gift."

"Oh…" She looked better, a little annoyed now, but not like she was hurt. "…I assure you, I have no use for it."

"Then sell it, or give it to your children."

"I could never sell it. I couldn't see it go to people who may not take care of it. As for children, I have none."

"You might, someday."

"Well I don't and as I can't be guaranteed any, I want you to have it."

"But-"

"I already told you selling was impossible, and it is no use to me. So just promise me you will never sell it and it shall be even, as you will get no profit from it."

"…alright…" He decided it would be best not to argue any more. As for the wreath, he found it mesmerizing. He turned it over in his hands and studied the detail.

Somehow, within five minutes, the topic of conversation was on music, and Holmes had put the gift away, under his bead. The three talked for an hour, before Dr. Watson decided it would be best to head home, as he had a full day the next day.

"I'd best go to… Morganna muttered. When Watson had his back turned, she kissed Holmes on the cheek and left with the Doctor.

They shared a cab, as there was only one to be found in the area. They were headed to the doctor's home first, as it was closest. "Just ask it."

"Pardon?"

"You wish to ask me something. Ask it."

"Alright… why? Why did you give Holmes such a valuable gift, and why such an odd gift…?"

"Swear you won't tell him… at least for a while…? It won't matter in a few months or so…"

"Alright… so long as you mean him not harm."

"I gave it to him, because I have chosen him to be my husband."

"HUS-"

"Yes…" She looked over at him and smiled. "It's a strange tradition running in my family, but the women give the man the crown, and do not tell them the meaning, but it's an heirloom, and the idea is that it shall never leave the family… it's rather difficult to explain…"

"So… what you're saying is that he just accepted, unknowingly, the equivalent of an engagement ring!?"

"Yes. But he is not bound to marry me… it's just an eccentric tradition… not a law. The point is to offer myself to him."

"Oh my…" Watson sat back against the seats of the cab.

Morganna smiled. "He says he's never loved, but I'm confident…"

"He'll hate me for telling you, but your confidence is not without grounds…"

"Oh, I know…" Morganna's smile grew to a grin. "But we have arrived at your home now… Good evening to you!" She called as he left.

(For the song mentioned above, the song I had in mind, but did not write in place, so as to allow my dear readers to imagine what they wish, was Nightwish's 'Wanderlust'. Look it up if you wish. It's a lovely song and the one I listened to while writing this chapter.)


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

3rd person P.O.V.

Morganna stood outside the doors to the examination building. Rain poured over everyone's umbrellas. People huddled in large groups, sharing their shelter and warmth. She stood alone, savoring the coolness of the water. All the students had either family or friends surrounding them, and those that didn't, due to distance, clutched and reread luck-wishing letters from loved ones. She stood alone, with her face turned up to the sky, proud and joyous. She did not begrudge the others their company. She could feel her mother and father's spirits pouring around her.

A pair of gentlemen, both with umbrellas approached the court yard. They did not walk in the direction of the group, but, rather the solitary woman standing in the rain. When they reached her, Holmes covered her with his umbrella. "You wouldn't want to be sick in your examination…" He fingered the lump in his pocket. A velvet jewelry box, containing a silver ring with a sapphire.

Morganna whirled around. She had not heard them approach, but they're presence was wonderful to her.

"Or wet." Dr. Watson added.

Morganna smiled and let all the loneliness she had ignored so far that day slip away. Her eyes met Holmes's and both looked away quickly and smiled to themselves. Watson saw the whole thing and quickly deduced their emotions: Nervousness, awkwardness at his presence, shyness and more than a little affection. He could tell that Morganna would have embraced Holmes, had he not been there, had she not been dressed as a man and with them in public.

"Thank you both…"

"Well… we knew you had no parents or other family to see you off…"

Morganna's smile grew… "You're wrong." She waved and both men looked over and saw a tall thin man with blond hair walking, quickly, to Morganna. He was followed by a beautiful woman in a gray cloak, struggling with her umbrella.

"Morganna you idiot, where the hell is your umbrella?"

"I missed you too…" She murmured.

"Now, hold on a second. Don't vex her, she's going into a very stressful examination soon."

"Well… she knows everything she'll need to pass. After all, I taught it to her, she ought to know everything."

"You never change… Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, allow me to introduce you to Dr. Faustus, my mentor and adopted elder brother, and his charming wife Elizabeth."

"Faustus the FIFTH!" He hissed.

"Whatever."

"So… you two…" Holmes started, but his words were cut off by Watson.

"A pleasure to meet you! I have read every article of yours with fascination!" He exclaimed while shaking his hand with a zeal that matched a hound after a scent.

"Charmed… Now, Morganna, if you disgrace me, I'll have you washing out bedpans as soon as you're widowed!"

"Widowed!" The other two men gasped.

"Well… its basic logic. The dean's an old man, the chances of him out living her are slim to none."

"Well still, to say something of such a cruel nature-" Dr. Watson said with a glair.

"I'd expect no less…"

"Indeed… death is as natural as birth and just as much of a mystery… oh, yes, we can describe the process and symptoms, but we still don't really know what they are… or, like how a bunch of atoms grouped together could have a consciousness… the truly scientific see death as finding the solution to one of life's greatest mysteries. The unfortunate, or possible fortunate part is that our discoveries can never be revealed to the living…" His eyes took on a dreamy tone as he spoke. Then h suddenly looked aware again. "So, Morg, what are your plans after getting your degree?"

"No idea… possibly treating people who can't afford… well… no idea really…"

He laughed. "Just like your father… he didn't know whether to establish a practice or to ask your mother to marry him."

"But he eventually chose love over his profession… how sweet!" Watson, who had always had a weakness for romance novels gushed.

"No… she grew sick of waiting and asked him!" Faust smirked. "That woman was completely harebrained and border lined insane… one couldn't help but to like her…"

"Oh?" Holmes and Watson said in unison.

"Well… she made life for those around her interesting…"

'"But insane?" Holmes asked in a concerned way as he gazed at Morganna, who was being fussed over by Elizabeth.

"Oh, not the drooling and strapped to the bed insane, but… well… hyper and… she came up with these theories… madness all of them, but I don't think even she really believed them…"

"Life for her was a daily psychological experiment." Morganna cut in. "She delighted in pushing people to their limits in as many ways as possible. Another favorite thing of hers was to saw the strangest things and study people's reactions… She said that she only wished she could take pictures…"

"Sounds like something Holmes here would do…" Watson muttered.

"You would have liked her…" Morganna smiled. She was long over her grief at the loss of her parents. Suddenly she froze. She stayed a state of deep thought for several minutes. After thinking for a while, she burst out laughing. Her friends crowed around her. Watson offered he a shot of brandy, which she refused.

"Stress…" He whispered to Holmes.

"Don't bet on it…" Faustus glared at Watson. "I tell you that never before has she fallen into hysterics and never will she."

"Sorry… just a memory…" Morganna gasped.

"Do share…" Holmes raised his eyebrow at her glance.

"Not until I can be sure my theory is correct…"

The bell rang across the courtyard, summoning all taking the test to enter the building and take their seats.

"Good luck!" All four called after her.

"Thank you!!!" Morganna called back. She turned and ran into the crowd.


	11. Chapter 11

Ch. 11

3rd person P.O.V.

Morganna, openly dressed in as a woman, along with the four that had before wished her luck, stood with her as the test results were being passed out to the students. There was a huge commotion among them. Some joyous, others depressed and a few relieved.

Holmes stuck his hand in his pocket to check, once again, if he had the ring box. All was as it should be. He could never remember being so nervous in his entire life. It took all his self control to keep from shaking as Morganna was handed her letter.

She opened it carefully. After several agonizing minutes she turned on her heel and left the room. She walked, rather quickly, out of the school building and into the courtyard where she had been wished well. It was raining, as heavily as it had been before. She couldn't breath. The end was here. After all her work, studying, learning, slaving away over her books, this was the end.

Holmes felt crushed. Watson and Mrs. Faustus were worried. Dr. Faust seemed indignant. Deciding that the best thing he could do right now would be to try to comfort Morganna, he left the building. He tried to remember the words spoken to him… "its basic logic. The dean's an old man, the chances of him out living her are slim to none…" If they were true, and she did out live the old man, he would marry her as soon as she was widowed, without any thought as to propriety. But the thought hit him. "What if she refused?" Perhaps it was best this way, if he never asked and was never refused. He had an excuse, at least. That any match was impossible from the start.

There was only one thought that tormented him. 'What if she had agreed before the test and called off the whole bet?" He chided himself for the thought. The reason he loved her was partly her career choice. If she would be willing to give everything up for him in that way, it would show a weakness, and he wouldn't want her then.

Leaving the building, he saw her in the rain. Her face turned to the pouring clouds. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget that picture.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12

3rd person P.O.V.

Morganna looked behind her as Sherlock's footsteps in the puddles that had formed on the grass, alerted her to his presence.

"Morganna, I… I'm sorry…" He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" She looked at him with honest confusion.

"You didn't make it, did you?" She said nothing but showed him the letter. The ink had run a little but it was still legible. He scanned it.

"…Best test results seen at this institution for over fifty years…"

Unable to read more, he pulled her to him. Without waiting for permission, he kissed her. Morganna, startled, but pleasantly so, kissed him back with a vigor that quite clearly proclaimed her likewise feelings for him. His hands lowered to her waist and pulled her body closer. Her hands found his hair. Knocking off his hat, she entwined her fingers in it and pulled his face closer. He flicked his tongue along her lips and she opened them, slightly. Not allowing him dominance, she dueled tongues with him until they were both out of breath.

Holmes knelt before her and, hands steady, took the ring out of his pocket. "Morganna…"

"No. Never kneel before me. It's degrading." She placed her palm on the side of his face.

He rose. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." Her voice was firm, certain.

He grabbed her again, and again he kissed her, even more passionately, if that were possible.

Dr. Watson, Dr. Faust and Elizabeth all walked out together in time to see the kiss. Watson, astounded that his old friend could do anything so passionate, in that way, could only stare. Elizabeth was slightly embarrassed, but glad that her adopted sister had found someone that lover her. Dr. Faust could only smile his approval. He genuinely liked the man, and thought they'd be happy together.

"You do realize," Morganna whispered, breathlessly, "that I don't plan to be a house wife, and mend, embroider and clean? I plan to be your equal in everything. And I don't want you to stop working as a detective. I want to be able to help you with your cases."

"Good… that was my plan…" He smiled and stole another kiss before the others reached them.


	13. Chapter 13

((This is more of a random plot bunny that came to me when a friend of mine (… he's cute too… lol) came over and had his first Sake… I took it like a shot, and he sat there sipping it like a lady sips tea at a garden party…))

Ch. 13

3rd person P.O.V.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson approached Morganna's study. Sherlock knocked, and the door was opened by Morganna within a few seconds. She gave them a lop-sided grin and stepped aside to wave them in.

"Hello" She grinned. Looking past her, Sherlock saw sitting at the table, calmly pouring himself a drink from what looked like a vase, and drinking from what appeared to be a saucer, sat Dr. Faustus.

Sherlock smelt it as soon as she opened her mouth. Alcohol. "Morganna! You've been drinking!"

"Damn straight!" She muttered. "Look, I get drunk twice a year. When my semi annually shipment of Sake comes from my good friends in Japan."

"Sake, hmmm?" He looked past her onto the table.

"Here!" Morganna pushed them into chairs. She poured them each a small glass. "Try some!"

"Wait…" Watson hesitated. "What exactly IS this stuff…?"

"Sake… rice wine!"

"Well…" Holmes smiled, nervously at his bride to be. "Bottoms up then!" Both men took it like a shot of brandy and ended up choking on it. They were expecting something weak and delicate, not something stronger than the wines they were used to. They both collapsed onto the table and tried to rid their mouths of the taste with the picture of water on the table and a pair of unused glasses.

"Well… _I_ like it…" Morganna muttered and poured herself some more.


	14. Chapter 14

Ch. 14

3rd person P.O.V.

Sherlock could not believe his eyes. He stood in front of the window of a fancy French café. Sitting inside the café was none other than Mycroft. With Morganna. He almost convinced himself that it was innocent, when Mycroft took her hand and began to fondle it. After a few second, he raised it to his lips and kissed it.

He hailed a cab and shut himself in his room. He smoked for several hours, consuming a record amount of tobacco in a very short amount of time. He could not believe that Mycroft would betray him in such a way… and Morganna… she had seemed so sincere… so perfect. He remembered what he had said about women to Watson countless times, that they are untrustworthy. Now he had become further proof to his rule.

There was the sound of the doorbell and steps on the stairs. He could tell by the very sound of the treads that it was none other than Morganna. He threw his pipe against the wall and it clattered to the floor. He rushed to pick it up before it started a fire.

She knocked.

"Come in." He was shocked at how civil he sounded.

"Sherlock…? What's the matter?" Morganna rushed over to him.

"Don't touch me!" He threw her hand off his shoulder.

"But I-"

"Little girl, you may have thought that I wouldn't notice, but I'm not an idiot. Tell me, just how long have you had such a relationship with Mycroft."

She cocked her head to the side in confusion. "For several years… But I don't see why you're-"

"Several years! So this whole time you've known me you were betraying me, with my own brother of all people!?!"

"But I don't see how-" Her confusion disappeared and her eyes went cold. She stood up to her full height, which was less than an inch shorter than Sherlock's, normally, but in her shoes, she was slightly taller. "So, you think I'd do something like THAT with him?!? We're friends. Nothing more. It was even he that recommended I ask for your help in that case that brought us together!"

"I must remember to thank him for sending me his mistress." She slapped him so hard the echo was like thunder.

She stood there, with her hands balled into fists, fuming at him. "How DARE you accuse me of such a thing."

"Just get out." He raised a hand to his cheek. It really hurt… "And don't ever even think of coming back. There's no way I'd marry a whore like you!" He turned so his back was to her, so she could not see him wince at the pain.

"Yes." Her voice was little more than a hiss. "It is rather difficult to have a marriage without _trust_, isn't it?" There was a pause followed by a soft tap. Sherlock turned to see her place her ring on the dressing table. "Just… don't ever make he mistake of thinking that I ever loved you. I simply thought you were good breeding material." With those last words, she left.


	15. Chapter 15

Ch. 15

3rd person P.O.V.

Morganna sat, alone, in a compartment on the train to her home in the country. She tried to hide it, but tears kept welling in her eyes. She simply could not let herself cry in a public place! She must even hide her tears from her servants. The men would swear to kill Sherlock Holmes and the women would put her to bed with a vial of smelling salts and treat her as if she were ancient china.

She sat up with a sigh and looked out the window. She had lied to him. She had said she did not love him. She knew people could be vengeful, so she had to make him think he had no power over her.

The train came to a slow stop at her station and she disembarked. She had to get home. She had work to do.

In the café, Mycroft had slipped her all the information she needed. Now she had to compare it to her notes and translate several documents from Japanese to English. She climbed into her carriage to think about her assignment.

Mycroft suspected that those working on building a friendly relationship with Japan were guilty of taking bribes from companies, embezzlement of government funds and several other things. The problem was that it was impossible for all to be guilty, yet none could be trusted. Mycroft had come to her, knowing her to be trustworthy, and, having lived in Japan for a few years, fluent, to go undercover and investigate the matter. He was her friend and she would not let him down because of emotional matters.

Upon arriving home, she poured herself a glass of brandy and set about her work.


	16. Chapter 16

Ch. 16

3rd person P.O.V.

Several weeks after, Mycroft Holmes burst into 221B Baker Street. He clutched a paper in his hand and his face was a mask of fury.

"SHERLOCK!!! What the bloody hell have you done!?!"

Sherlock looked up from his breakfast with minimal concern. "I thought I told you never to come here."

"What the hell did you do?!?" Mycroft threw the paper down onto the table. It was a gossip paper, but it was known for its accuracy. The front page showed a young, beautiful woman, Morganna, dancing with a middle aged, but wealthy, gentleman. The headline advertised a rumor of engagement. "What happened between you two?"

"You ought to be able to deduce that." Sherlock spat at him.

"I have no idea what you mean. Furthermore, why did Morganna say nothing to me?"

"First, I ended things with her because she was having an affair-"

"AN AFFAIR-!!!"

"With YOU!!!" Sherlock knocked over his chair as he stood and tried to shove his brother out of the door. "Second, I imagine she said nothing to you because I am sure she was too embarrassed to."

"Sherlock, you idiot! How could you ever think she was-"

"I saw you both that day at the French café on the Strand that you said you hated so much!"

"You idiot." Mycroft's voice was low and dangerous. "You bloody idiot. She was not having an affair. She was working for me!"

"Working for- I saw you fondle her hand!"

"Well I couldn't just pass the documents to her in broad daylight. She was working undercover, after all."

"Oh God…" Sherlock sat down heavily on the settee. His breathing was quick and deep. He began to rum his hands through his hair.

"I'd go apologize. The engagement has not been announced yet. You may still have time."

"No."

"Why not? Don't tell me your pride-"

"Not my pride. She said she never loved me." Sherlock threw his head into his hands. He was trying not to sob. He realized the extent of his insults of the woman he loved.

Mycroft took pity on his and sat beside him. He placed his hand on his shoulder. "Look… she probably said that to keep her pride… go to her. At the very least, you must apologize."

"I know." Sherlock, now thoroughly miserable picked up his coat. He walked out onto the street and hailed a cab.

"Charring Cross Station, and hurry!"


	17. Chapter 17

Ch. 17

3rd person P.O.V.

Sherlock ran up the large set of stone steps leading to the threshold of Morganna's home. He paused at the door. Looking up he had to guess that they were at least twenty feet high.

"They probably made them this height just to intimidate people…" He muttered and knocked.

The door was opened a few seconds later by a smiling butler. His face fell into a near scowl when he saw who darkened the doorstep. "Ah. Mr. Holmes. How may I help you?"

"Morganna… she must speak with me!"

"That's Miss Sneris to you, and she will not speak with you. Good day." He went to close the door but Sherlock stuck is foot in the way.

"No! Please! Surly she would see me? I wish to app-"

"Mr. Holmes, She will not see you. She is, as a matter of fact, in Germany right now."

"Did she say when she'd be back?"

"No. Good day."

This time the large door was shut in his face.

Germany… he had no doubt that she was visiting that couple… Dr. Faustus and his wife… Elizabeth… He would have to find out where they lived… then beg them to help him get her back…

He stood on the shores of the continent. He had asked Watson if he knew where Dr. Faustus lived. His dear friend had helped him plot the quickest course to get there. With a final sigh, Sherlock hailed a carriage and asked to be brought to the train station.

Morganna sat up in her bed in her family's summer home. She had lived only a few minutes walk from her elder brother every summer for as long as she could remember. It was a pleasant place, large grounds with a waterfall and excellent bridal paths. She always kept several horses here and delighted in riding them.

Still… something wasn't right. Even Faustus had noticed that she looked strained. He asked her if it was the men in her profession giving her a hard time. When she told him of her fight with her fiancée, he was shocked and declared that he had actually liked this man. Morganna had just sighed and agreed that he had rather charmed her.

She lit a candle and took up the novel she had been reading before she had gone to bed. She hated that she couldn't sleep well. She had tried to block thoughts about him from her mind but he always found his way in again…

Sherlock exited the train and looked around. He had been traveling for a total of three days and looked forward to resting. But first he had to confront her. He had to let her know how he felt…

The next morning, Morganna saddled up her second favorite horse, her favorite being her Friesian that she had been forced to leave in England on account of her short notice for the trip. She was wearing men's clothes, but she always did when riding, when she could manage it. As it was only her that morning, there was nothing to stop her.

After a hard morning's ride, she returned to her house to see a solitary man walk up the drive. She kicked her horse into a canter and met him at the gate.


	18. Chapter 18

Ch. 18

Holmes's P.O.V.

I watched as she cantered toward me. Her hair blew around her like a halo. When she stopped in front of me and looked down at me with cold eyes, I felt all the apprehension I had previously managed to quell return with a vengeance.

She said nothing, but waved at me to follow her. She led me to the front door where she dismounted and opened one of the pair of large, carved doors. She bowed me inside with a cold, regal manner. I entered and she led to a comfortable drawing room.

"Why have you come here?" Her voice was cold as her eyes and I had to repress a shiver.

"Morganna… I…" Words would not form. My mind was too full of guilt, apprehension and sorrow to string two thoughts together other than 'she hates me… she hates me…'.

"Please hurry. I have another appointment soon."

"Are you really engaged to that man? The papers-"

"Lord Melfrey is a charming man, full of fastening conversation and an excellent dancer."

"So you-" I gasped.

"No. I just enjoy his company, whether on the dance floor or in my parlor. He is no more than a friend. Why do you ask?" Her voice, which had been clipped and sharp turned suspicious.

"The papers said…" I muttered off into nothing.

"Ah." Her voice became condescending, angry and accusing. I thought I heard a small amount of sorrow in it too… "So you break things off with me and rumors fly about me with another man in a short while, so you come to find out if they are true out of jealousy?"

"NO!!!" I stood up and knocked over the table in my horror at her statement. She did nothing except raised an eyebrow. "No! …I saw you with Mycroft and jumped to a horrible and inaccurate conclusion. I allowed jealousy to cloud my judgment and made the worst mistake of my life." I had to pause and my tone turned to a plea. "I told the only woman I have ever loved to leave me…"

She looked me in the eyes for a long while, but I saw hers soften. "So you're here-"

"Because I wanted to apologize and tell you that… that I still love you…"

"Sherlock… after all you said… after all you did…"

"Please!" My voice betrayed my panic, and she winced at it. I could not loose her, no matter what she asked of me. "Please forgive me! I will do anything, anything at all!!!"

"Do you remember what I said to you at our last meeting?"

"…That you did not, and never did, love me…?" I had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing.

"Yes."

"But… you must! Why else would you have decided to marry me! I have neither money not titles!!!"

"I lied to you. I loved- LOVE you more than anything or anyone else, but you-"

"Please! I beg you!-" I placed my hands on her shoulders and she looked away.

"You really cut me that night…"

"I know… I swear… I shall never do it again."

She looked into my eyes and I felt as if she were able to see my very soul. "I believe you." She whispered and kissed me.


	19. Chapter 19

Ch. 19

Morganna's P.O.V.

I sat with him on the train. He clung on to my arm as if he imagined I would change my mind. He's so intelligent… but he really can be a fool sometimes. I would never be able to leave him… not completely. Not ever. Still I let him cling, long after he had fallen asleep on my shoulder. Looking at his face, I found myself smiling. His lips betrayed a small smile and he looked perfectly content.

My hand rose on its own to stroke the hair at his temple. He tells me that it was that action that saved his life.

The train gave a sudden and sharp lurch and a screech. His walking stick flew off of the luggage rack opposite us and struck my arm with its tip. It struck my arm where it was directly over his neck. He swears that had I not placed it there, he would have found his jugular vein split.

As it was I gave a weak scream of pain. He assessed the situation in a matter of seconds, and knelt before me, holding his jacket to my bleeding arm. I said nothing, but went white with pain as I tried to block it from my mind, as I had been taught many years ago.


	20. Chapter 20

Ch. 20

Sherlock's P.O.V.

I held my jacket to her wound. The shock at the whole accident still rang in my head, but she was more important. I had to help her.

"Morganna… I need you to move your arm. I have to see if it's broken." She managed to move all her fingers and her whole arm for me. The actions caused further bleeding, but at least I knew it was just a flesh wound.

"Sherlock… I need stitches."

"I know, but from the jolt of the train I'd say we were derailed. It could take hours."

"I'm really bleeding…"

"We are just a few miles out of town… would you like to try walking…?"

"We must."

"Alright. Let's go…" I found the conductor and explained the situation to him. He promised to look after our luggage and offered to send a boy with us to help with her. She declined the offer, claiming that she could walk. I agreed. I don't know why… There was just something so…strong about her…

She went to the luggage compartment and changed into a pair of walking boots and we set off…

After walking for about two miles, I noticed that the sky had turned considerably darker. Taking out my watch, I confirmed what I had feared. The sun was not due to set for a hour yet. The day had been rather overcast, and now it seemed it should rain.

She looked at me and sighed. "Let's just press on."

"Are you sure… I'm sure we could find a farmhouse…"

"No. I need stitches. The sooner the better. We're both healthy. We can take some rain…"

I grabbed her uninjured wrist and turned her to face me. I looked into her strong blue eyes and kissed her. She tensed in shock, but kissed me back after a few seconds. After a small eternity I pulled away.

"My apologies…"

She turned to me and gave me a weary smile. "…I like it when you do that…"

I could have sworn that my eyes detected a blush, but it was that exact moment that the heavens decided to let loose.

"Let's run." I shouted. She took me hand and followed me. The wind was blowing against us and we struggled on for another half mile or so, when the thunder and lightening started.

The first blade crossed our path just few hundred feet away. The thunder that came with it was deafening. After the sound faded from me hearing I heard her laughter. She sounded crazed, like a laughing animal. I turned to her, afraid that the shock had sent her wits scattering, but no… She was doubled over in honest laughter. 

"Morganna!?!"

"Oh, Sherlock, I've always loved a good thunderstorm… But that… wasn't that amazing!?!"

"I suppose…" I found myself somewhat disconcerted be her behavior.

"Come, we're close now…"

Sometime during the last half mile, the rain moved on and left behind it a fresh world and a beautiful clear sky.

Oh, and two drenched travelers.

"Oh, good, we made it… alive." I muttered as the country road became a town's lane.


	21. Chapter 21

Ch. 21

Morganna's P.O.V.

I could not help singing to myself in delight as the town doctor stitched my arm. I had been feeling light headed for some time now, and the lightening did nothing to help me. Still, I knew that if I let Sherlock know that he would fuss over me, which would cause me to anger, causing my pulse to rise and the loss of more blood.

While I was being treated, Sherlock was seeing to some lodgings for us for the night. He came in as the doctor was bandaging my arm. After paying for everything, a small but rather adorable gesture, he led me out of the office and to a country inn.

I had no problems making myself comfortable, having spent the night in more hostile accommodations, but was somewhat secretly disappointed that Sherlock had gotten us separate rooms instead of pretending to be my husband and sharing a room with me…

Ever the gentleman that man…

I vowed to myself that one day, most likely AFTER our marriage, that I would see him without that stiff collar, both literally and mentally…

As I stretched out in a nightgown borrowed from the kindly landlady, I made the mental note to make his wedding night one he would never forget.

I had little doubt, none on my part, that it would be the first for both of us, but I have always been creative…also friends of a Geisha… a single delicately written letter and he would completely submit…


	22. Chapter 22

This is a fair warning to everyone who has been reading thus far and is not comfortable with smut: This chapter contains smut. It begins in the ninth chapter and goes on from there, so if you are uncomfortable with that sort of thing, please stop reading there. You have been warned!

To anyone who LIKES smut… well this is my first attempt at heterosexual smut, so please be nice…? (if you look, most of my fan-fics are slash)

Ch. 22

Morganna's P.O.V.

We ended up setting the wedding date for mid-august. I wanted a summer wedding and was not willing to wait for another year, which would have been somewhat of a less scandalous engagement time.

"Why," I can still hear the old dowagers exclaim. "You scarcely know him! You may as well elope!"

My wedding gown I designed myself. It was slim in the front and draped over a low bustle. The collar was shockingly low for a dress to be worn before evening. The collar was made of silver silk embroidered with pale silver and gold ivy. It was ruffled slightly, but not enough to distort the pattern. I was actually going to go fully corseted, so my waist was minute. The front was just layers of white silk pulled and draped over the bustle. The train was over ten feet long and blood red. It was trimmed in white with glass beads woven into the leaf motif. The whole dress was made of silk, even the sleeves, which were also loose and ruffled as well as detachable, for the ball I planned for that evening. I had a pair of white silk opera gloves as well as a pair of wrist-length gloves, both pairs buttoned with pearls. My hair was to be curled and draped with a veil in the back, but I refused to wear one on the front. Holding all of it in place would be an intricate silver tiara with sapphires, and on my throat, a matching necklace.

I designed Sherlock's suit as well. It was black with a pearl grey waistcoat and white shirt. His cravat was the same blue as the sapphires in my tiara. The cravat pin was the same one he had worn at the ball we had attended together. All were made of the best possible quality cloth and tailored by the best.

The wedding was to be in the very early morning, while still dark. I had arranged for an outdoor ceremony at sunrise. The aisle would be lined with silver candle holders wound with ivy. To get to the alter, we would have to cross a small bridge over a pool. In the pool would be a thousand lotus flowers.

After the ceremony there would be a light picnic breakfast followed by lawn games. The feast would at the noon meal then guests could have the option to continue with their entertainments or retire for a few hours. In the early evening, there would be another light meal then a grand ball lasting as long as people were still willing to dance, which would mean having several orchestras on standby so they could play in shifts.

As I finished planning remember sighing and resting my head in my arms. There was a mere month to get everything ready. As soon as it was morning I would have to send out orders for everything from the cloth to flowers to candles to food…

After collecting my sanity once again, I strode to my room. Not yet ready to sleep, for some unknown reason, I slipped out of my clothes and put on one layer of my kimono, a real one made for me in Japan. Tying the obi in a simple knot, I walked out onto my balcony. I leant against the railing for several moments before I was aware of a movement in the garden below me.

"Halloa?" I called out.

Not to my great surprise, it's Sherlock that turns a corner on the path and suddenly became visible to me. He still is fully clothed n the outfit he wore to dinner this evening… I shift my position and favored him with a smug smile, all the while, perfectly aware that my ankles were showing from within the slit of my wrapper.

He blushes slightly and bows to me. I beckon him with my finger. He climbs up the ivy and rough stone wall. We both sit on the railing, leaning back and twisted to the side to look at each other. He gives me such a piercing stare that I almost want to fall over in order to hide my blush. Still, he sees it. He places a hand on my cheek and gives me a tender kiss. He pulls away less than an inch and whispers against my lips, "I love you. I deeply look forward to our wedding night…" I kiss him again, but this time with passion.

My hands find their way to his hair. My fingers entangle themselves to tightly that I feel that I could, and would, happily loose them completely. I feel a slight shock and not a little pleasure when I feel his hands slip along my collar. I remove my hands from his wonderful jet black hair and allow them to grasp the sides of his thin body. His hands slide deeper under my collar and I lean towards him, causing the kimono to fall away from my shoulders and merely hang from my waist and wrists.

The realization that I am completely bare to the waist is lost on me, as his hands are on my breasts. His strong fingers are squeezing them causing such an exquisite pain that my body pushes into his hands, closer to him. He begins to pinch my nipples and it takes every bit of my self control not to cry out, for then he would surly stop…

His left hand leaves my right breast and is places on my knee, under my thin garment. He kisses my panting mouth and begins to slowly slide his hand up my thy. My hands are wound in the cloth of his shirt; somehow they got beneath the material of his jacket and waistcoat, the undone buttons provided some clue, but I am too senseless to see it! His hand pauses about an inch from-…

He pulls back from the kiss. I look at him through eyes clouded in fervor. I can feel my lips throb and the flush in my cheeks. His hand, still on my left breast gives the nipple there one last savage pinch that causes me to recoil in pain then push back in pleasure. He repeats the procedure with my other nipple, gaining a slight whimper from me.

He removes both his hands from my body and sits back to look at me appraisingly. He gives me a smile, mirror like in the smugness I had smiled at him in just a few minutes earlier. He kisses me on my cheek and climbs down the wall. Once at the bottom, he picks up the hat that had at sometime fallen to the ground and waves it at me in a perfect bow. He placed it on his head and walked away.

I walk back into my room, pulling the thin layer of silk close, suddenly cold. It takes a few minutes to realize that he had me completely under his power. That I submitted to him! I pick up a porcelain vase, one I never really liked, anyways, and threw it against the wall. As soon as it falls to the floor, I see the irony in the situation and find myself in a state of helpless laughter.

I went to my bed and lay down. My thoughts were full of him and how to extract my revenge.

I never did get any sleep that night…


	23. Chapter 23

Morganna's POV

I woke on the morning of the eve of my wedding shaking with anxiety. Everything was in place. My dress was in and it was perfect. The flowers were to be delivered today and a hundred extra were ordered, just in case of a mishap. The tables were to be put out on the lawn that day and everything was in place.

There was one problem. The Groom.

He was on a case. I could not begrudge him as he was tracing a document that could, if it fell into the wrong hands, start a war. I would much rather have to order new food and flowers than be in the middle of the war... After all, no one could be that selfish.

But-

I threw myself back in bed, moody. I wish that I could have at least accompanied him, but SOMEONE had to look after things here, and it was not like I could track this document...

Still... it had been a week since he had started the case and three days since I had received any word from him. His last letter had told me that this would happen, as he was going 'under cover'...

I got out of bed and stood in the early morning chill. My thin silk nightgown was of little use against the late summer morning and, as I had left the windows open, I was shivering. I slipped on a housecoat and stood on my balcony. There was a mist rising from the rose garden below. I prayed that it would be there on the morrow... I imagined myself walking through the spiralling mist in my dress... but... I prayed again that I would not be walking up there alone...

I will admit I was in a gloomy mood at the time. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't just the wedding that was getting to me... I was somewhat worried by the lack of communication. I knew that Sherlock could take care of himself, but, at the same time... he WAS dealing with a gang that killed first and asked questions later...

I sighed and allowed a soft breeze to blow my hair off my neck. It was chilling, but refreshing...

Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around me and I recognised the scent and feeling of my fiancee. He nuzzled the crook of my neck witha stubbled cheek. A delighted gasp excaped me and I whirrled around so fast that it was a wonder neither of us were hurt.

"Sherlock!" I kissed his with passion. "I thought... that perhapse... that you might not make it..." I gasped for breath.

His smile was ammused. "Of course I would have made it! There's no way that I would have left you standing at the alter all alone..."

"But the document?"

"In the hands of the rightful owner."

"Good." For a few seconds I could not meet his eye and starred at my feet. Then I grasped him close to me. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Shush now! Everything's alright... you're not crying, are you?"

"No..." I blushed and wiped away a single tear... "I'm just happy, I swear!"

He laughed and poked me in the ribs. "Shall I get out your smelling slats?"

"Hmph!"

He laughed harder at me.

"Let me order breakfast for us and you can tell me everything!" I said.

"Fine, but send for some water in my room... I'm not a sight fit for a lady's eyes."

I chortled. "I'll send for it here and you can fetch your razor. We have too much to discuss to wait even a few minutes."

"As you wish..."

He told me the story of his hunt for the document in great detail over the next hour. And afterwards I told him of the setting up and coorination of everything needed for the ceremony.

"You know," He said, reclining on my settee as I, behind the curtain was getting dressed, "With the skill you women have at organizing servants, I think a little military stragity education and you would make fine comanders in the army."

"Comanders!? Generals at least! Though, I do admit, the title of 'Supreme Dictator For Life' IS appealing..."

"Dream on, honey..."

I tossed my hair over my shoulder. "You mock me?"

"Yes."

"If we have children, I hope we have a girl first."

"Why?"

"I can't wait to see how she, that is if she takes after her momma, windes you around her little finger."

"Won't happen."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "That's what they all say."

Later that day, when we were taking tea in the library, I found myself thinking...

Sherlock and I had been playfully flirting the whole day, but I knew that we were both looking foreword to the next evening. My heart stopped for a second then began to beat wildly whenever I thought of what was to come. The mere scent of him was enough to drive me to madness. And being with him all day, greeting guests that were staying with us for the next few days and seeing to all the preparations was torture. When we caught each other's eyes, I think we both knew that the other was thinking the same thing... 'one more day...'

Our guests were all having naps in preparation for the early morning they would be enduring on the morrow, but Sherlock and I, as we were never bother by lack of sleep, were taking a few minutes to relax.

My thoughts at that time would have shamed any decent lady, but by then I was fairly sure that I was a different breed altogether. Still, I found myself blushing as I spoke. "Sherlock..."

"Hmmm?"

"Well... I was thinking... after the ceremony... well... we will probably be busy with the banquet and other things all day... then in the evening is the ball and I suspect that we will spend a great deal of time there... Afterwards we shall both likely be very tired..."

"What's your point...?"

"Well... just that... If we were to both retire at 9:30 tonight... and wait half an hour so everyone would think us asleep... and... well... I have to rise by 2:00... but I only need two hours or sleep anyways..."

"What are you saying?" I noticed a slight blush on his cheeks...

"I'm saying that... if you would call on me in my room at ten O'clock tonight... I would be most pleased to see you."

"Morganna. Are you saying that... before we're married... you want to-"

"What difference does a few hours make? Will you come?" I was shaking and my eyes were locked on his...

"Of course." He kissed me and quietly left the room.


	24. Chapter 24

It was supper before I saw him again. Our guests had risen and joined us for a light meal. We sat side by side at the grand table, but were far too busy with entertaining our guests to do more than catch each other's eye. I found myself blushing, slightly, every time I did so.

'Ah, well...' I thought. 'At least it looks lady-like...'

Dr. and Mrs. Watson were very animated. The good doctor was clearly delighted that the wedding was so soon. Mrs. Watson was chattering away about her sewing circles and how I 'simply must join!' Just like my husband to be, I hid my nervousness with a perfect calm that only a very select few could see through. The meal ended at nine o'clock. Not a moment too soon, in my opinion. I was able to make a hasty retreat. All the ladies took no notice of my near rudeness. They all wanted their beauty sleep too.

I sent my servants to go help my guests and said that I would get out of my dinner dress alone. None of them were naive enough to know that I was going to be alone, but they were all smart and loyal enough to say nothing to anybody.

I looked in the mirror. I was in a dinner dress or royal blue silk. My hair was swept up on my head and I was wearing sapphire earrings circled by small diamonds and a matching pendant around my throat. Both were encased in silver. My face was rather pale, except for the blush on my cheeks. My eyes were almost feverishly bright. Had I been a painting, I would have seen thought quite beautiful.

I reached up and took out all my hair pins. I shook my head and my hair fell out of the bun, but it still retained something of a slight wave. I heard the sound of the clock chiming. It was already 9:45!

I wasn't going to lie to myself and claim that I was not frightened. Still, I did not regret inviting Sherlock to come early. I forced myself to calm and picked up my brush. Careful not to straighten it, I went about detangling it. The minutes seemed hours and mere seconds at the same time. Sitting at my dressing table, I awaited his knock.

It never came.

That isn't to say that he never did. He slipped in, silently, through the secret passage way I had shown him so many weeks ago. The door was a mere few feet from my table and when he entered my room, I turned to him with a small, shy smile. His face matched mine.

He stepped closer and I rose from my chair. We were a foot from each other but it seemed an ocean. That is, until my hand, as if on decision, reached up to stroke his cheek. I slid it back behind his head and pulled him closer to me. It was his own doing when he closed the last few inches betwixt us and kissed me.

Something in that kiss broke the spell of hesitation. We grew passionate and frantic. Everything became a blur of the senses. Touch became taste and taste became smell until one sensation could not be distinguished from another.

Somewhere, sometime, I don't remember where or how, my dress fell to the floor along with his dinner jacket, vest and cravat. He began to remove my under things until I stood before him in nothing but my short chemise, which barely came down to mid thy. He held me at arm's length for several seconds, his quick eyes traveling over every inch of my flesh. When his eyes met my own, I could feel mine turning a different colour. I could feel my pupils dilate.

I wanted him.

I had to have him.

I threw myself at him and removed his shirt. I'm almost ashamed to say that the first button, the one at his throat, I undid with my teeth. I can't remember who was responsible for removing his trousers, but they came next.

We clutched each other. I could feel him pressing into my abdomen. It felt foreign and strange. I could feel all the carnal power rushing through his body focused in that one area. It was funny, how ten years of medical school and studying every part of the human anatomy from every possible angle could never prepare me for something like this.

He shifted and began to walk, leading me to the bed. I followed with no hesitation what so ever. We stood together at the edge for a few seconds. He looked into my eyes and I gave him what he wanted. A slight nod. My silent request for him to continue. He kissed me softly and his hands slid down my body to my thighs. They slid underneath my chemise and up the sides of my body. One of his hands, when slightly below my waist, brushed my center. I gasped and pressed closer. He slipped the thin garment over my head and I stood before him, completely exposed.

His eyes widened and roamed over me for several moments. When they eventually met mine, I noticed that he was blushing too.

I stepped forward and gave him a gentle, but thorough kiss to distract him as my own hands moved under his underwear. They too, soon fell to the floor.

I have seen men naked before, but that was always in a purely scientific or professional setting. They never had any effect on me as I just saw them as what they are, flesh and bones. Sherlock's body was something else entirely. There was a sense of raw power in it that almost brought me to my knees.

I sat down on the bed to keep from falling over. He took a step forward and stood before me, his legs straddling mine. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back. He climbed over me and was on his hands and knees over me.

My own hands found his face, hair, neck, shoulders, abdomen, back and everywhere else. They eventually found his nipples. I caressed them gently. He shifted and sat on me, straddling me pelvis. My hands again found his nipples and his found mine. We began to alternately fondle and pinch each other for several minutes. Several times, I writhed beneath him as the pleasure almost became painful. I could feel him doing the same.

When I felt him pull away, I allowed him to go. He was shaking and shivering. I could see that he was a single touch from climaxing. I felt the same. I wrapped my arms around his back and began to run my nails up and down his flesh, both calming and stimulating him at the same time.

I wiggled out from beneath him and crawled backwards to the front of the bed. I reclined against the pillows and beckoned him with my finger to come to me.

"Morganna…" My name was both a sigh and a moan.

"Sherlock, dear heart, come here." He lay in my arms.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I nodded.

I stroked his arm and he began to relax. But soothing was not what I had planned, at least, not for long. I flipped him onto his back and straddled him. I ground my hips into him. He thrashed violently and cried out nonsense, I would not relent. Not, that is, until I felt that he was at his breaking point. He was shivering below me when I stopped. He was coated in a fine layer of sweat and his eyes have a glassy coat to them.

I leaned down and tenderly kissed him back to sanity.

"Morganna," He panted, "Morganna… please…"

I began to nip at his bottom lip. He once again got excited, but I was not kind enough to stop there. In fact, it was nothing more than a distraction. My right hand slide behind my back. My fingers lightly caressed his thy as I slid my hand back up his body. I was blindly searching…

I knew I had found what I was looking for when he almost shouted. It was my mouth on his that prevented any noise. My hand caressed the strong muscle that filled it.

His hands found my shoulders and his nails dug into my skin. Thankfully, they were short.

I knew that he could not continue on as he was for very much longer. I rose from the kiss with a rather evil smile.

"Oh god, … Morganna… Please…"

I took mercy. I rose to my knees and slowly descended on him. His arms moved to my waist to guide me. He cried out in pleasure. I gasped in both pleasure and pain. I felt a small amount of blood run down my thighs. But this was all in the back of my mind. I was riding on waves of pure ecstasy.

I don't know how long I rode him for, but when he exploded, deep inside of me, I followed.

I slumped down into his arms.

"Morganna… oh my god… Morganna…"

I nuzzled my face into the crook in his shoulder.

"Ssh… go to sleep…"

"Here?" He raised his head.

"Yes. I already set the alarm for two o'clock. My maids will be here fifteen minutes after. So you will have enough time to get up, help me make the bed then leave before they come."

"Mmmph… make the bed?"

"Well… if they knew what happened, my reputation would be ruined!" I said in mock horror.

"Right…" He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Hey… You're bleeding!"

I smiled and rolled my eyes. Trust Sherlock not to know what had just happened. I rose and came back with a damp cloth and cleaned us both up. Then I threw it in the fireplace and burned it.

I lay back with him and pulled the blankets over us. As I was falling asleep, I heard the clock strike ten forty five.


End file.
